


Brave Souls Inside

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s Era Queen (Band), Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Band Fic, Declarations Of Love, Epic Friendship, Gen, Hugs, One Shot, Sad Brian May, Swearing, Sweet, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 02:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: Brian loves what he does, he loves his lads and his band and the music they make. But sometimes he feels so alone, bereft. He wonders whether or not he is good enough, or whether other people are simply indulging him. During and after a performance in 1977 he and his band brothers learn something.(Or, Brian is touch-starved and it takes a friend to notice)
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Brian May & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	Brave Souls Inside

Freddie proudly introduces Brian as they play and he does a little acoustic riffing between big songs. Brian politely says the audience is free to sing along to this next piece if they’d like, and thanks them for indulging him. His entreaty, of wanting people to sing along only if they'd care to and it isn't too much of a bother, is immediately followed by Roger screaming a demand to “SING ALONG!!!” because they came here to listen and have a good time, they ought to bloody sing!

Brian’s speaking voice is so soft and gentle, directly juxtaposed to Roger's screech and Freddie's warm, syrupy projection. He comes in with his mesmerising tone, and Brian makes a face at him to disguise the lump in his throat and tears in his eyes.

Roger’s enthusiasm with his tambourine and bass drum, and John's steady bass beat--they are all in sync, they connect so well together musically. And yet Brian feels a yawning gulf stretching between them. 

They do not touch.

Of course, there are nods and smiles and the warmth of Freddie leaning close; Rog beams and flicks out his tongue, laughing over at Brian in typical cheeky exuberant fashion. And Bri smiles back, of course, but he feels shut off, closed down. He feels so long away, and Roger catches that in him, the insecurity, the thanks for indulgence. His eyes narrow as he screeches in his descant falsetto before Brian takes off at the end of the song. Yet his heart and mind are separate from his fingers, the drummer can see it.

Roger corners Brian after the show and demands to know why Brian says those things, why he acts as he does: "Bri, these people came to hear us. They want to indulge you, they're fans. And it's not even indulging-- If they didn't like your music they wouldn't _be_ here, for fuck's sake!"

"They could be here for you, or John-- I'm certain most are here for Freddie--"

"Thank you, darling," Freddie blows Brian a kiss from beyond Roger's irascible head. "Yet they most certainly love you too." The expression within those deep brown eyes calls Brian out for his self-deprecating nonsense.

"But--"

"But nothing, Brian! If you fucking say that oh, 'nobody knows I wrote the songs' that's a bollocks reason for them not to appreciate you! You're part of the fucking band!" Roger grabs onto and shakes the guitarist's shoulders. Brian shudders at the touch, feeling icy cold warring with the heat of Roger's hands. He sees spots dance before his eyes at Roger's touch, god it feels so good, however frustrated his friend is. 

Brian aches for it, the feeling of being touched. He hadn't quite realized how much he yearned, how little he had; his wasn't an incredibly effusive family but they had touched; his mum would cup his cheek or dad pat his shoulder. Freddie was always so effusive, he kisses his boys' cheeks as often as he enters or leaves a room, practically; yet even he had been at a slight distance. Worried for Brian but thinking he needed space. Gentle, unsure Fred. And John… he looks up as the bassist speaks, those gentle grey green eyes watching always. Doesn't initiate hugs at all, though; he gives them to Roger, they are always touching each other, giggling over nothing. It makes Brian's heart lurch in his chest, the ease of their interactions together.

"Take out your guitar and we lose something, Brian," John's quiet voice intones now as Brian continues shaking. "Something amazing."

Roger waves one hand back at John without taking his eyes off Brian's. Roger, who has always been the one to initiate touch, who'd ruffled Brian's hair and pumped his hand enthusiastically the day they met. Glorious, glowing, exuberant Rog. "See?! Deaky gets it! Everybody fucking gets it, except you." Roger's breath heaves, his nostrils flare. "What the fuck--" _is wrong with you, Brian?_ He wants to ask, but he knows. He knows how Brian feels about himself, and if Roger were to ask him that it would only make him wilt and say something like 'so much is wrong, Rogie' and the drummer cannot stand it. With a gulping, wrenching sound he throws his body into Brian's chest, arms cinching around and squeezing the tall thin man against him. The drummer presses his lips to Brian's smooth skin and then lifts himself to rest his cheek against Bri's neck. "Dammit Brian, you're astounding."

Brian lets out a soft wordless cry, like a baby bird, and buries himself in Roger's embrace. His heart is thumping so hard, surely they must all hear it; his skin feels like it's burning. 

Roger senses the intensity of Brian's reaction is due to his touch as much as, if not more than his words, and holds his tall friend even tighter, rocking a bit back and forth. Fuck, he realizes; they hadn't hugged like this in… years. He'd held Brian's hand for the entirety of the time he'd been in hospital for hepatitis and gangrene, but Bri was so out of it then he wouldn't remember. And he'd been curling in on himself since, working so hard but holding himself aloof, away. Surely not intentionally, but he gets in rough places, Brian, and if no one pays precise attention he can slip away. 

Roger gulps hard, fingers gripping Bri's arms and back nearly hard enough to bruise. God, what a shitty friend he's been. Brian needs touch as much as any of them, even if he's hurting and alone. ESPECIALLY if he's hurting and alone. It hadn't been a noticeable slip, a change; none of them noticed, which honestly makes it worse to think perhaps this is one reason why Brian thanks people for indulging him, because they don't. 

"There's no other guitarist who sounds like you, Brimi darling," Freddie adds as he comes over to join the embrace, seeing Roger's emotion along with Brian's. He strokes and tugs on Brian's curls affectionately. 

"--And we love you," utters John quietly, wrapping his arm around Bri's lower back and rubbing it, nestling close. Dear quietly understanding Deaks. "You're indulging all of us by playing the way you do, Bri."

"Thank you, lads," Brian chokes, heart and eyes and body full of their affection. He cannot believe he hadn't seen, hadn't known... "Thank you so much."

"'Course. We've got you," Roger's husky growl is muffled where he's shifted himself to press his face in Brian's shirt. "We're holding on, and you can ask for the shite you need, alright? No one's indulging, we're just--"

"Giving you love," Freddie adds smoothly, stroking Roger's hair as the drummer's emotions make his words croak to a halt. John nods and smiles.

"Yeah. You deserve it, Brian. All the care and affection."

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write a piece about Brian dealing with touch starvation, and this was the result. (Thank you for your request, Raven!) I hope you enjoyed it and that my descriptions were respectful.
> 
> The performance I have the boys doing is '39 from Earl's Court on 6 June 1977. The title of this piece also comes from that lovely song.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


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